


Max Was Scared

by trash_mammall



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Flashback, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Panic Attack, Past Child Abuse, Referenced - Freeform, dadvid, it's v lowkey tho, just kinda referenced, m/a/x/v/i/d shippers can kindly Fuck Off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 11:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13212720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_mammall/pseuds/trash_mammall
Summary: Very few things scared Max, but one thing he hadn't experienced since coming to camp. His eyes look for something that isn't there, and he gets hurt as a consequence.





	Max Was Scared

**Author's Note:**

> this is honestly just a Long panic attack, so maybe proceed w caution if you're easily triggered by that? also there's mention of child neglect, and mild emotional abuse in here bc Max has a little flashback.

Very few things scared Max, as he had tried to convince everyone several weeks before. Supernatural antics were basically impossible, and most real-life scares were somehow caused by him. Rarely did his heart beat out of his chest, his pulse pound in his ear, or his blood run cold.

He could even take yelling. He had long grown numb to anyone shouting at or around him. Whether it be one of the other campers, or David himself, no one could raise their voice high enough to make him think about fleeing the scene.

Nikki couldn’t believe it, and neither could Neil, but eventually everyone had let it be. They had all agreed that Max was hard to get to, and that was that. If he was seen screaming, or crying, or ecstatic, it was something important. Other than that, everything was mild with him. Mild disinterest, mild anger, mild contentment.

And that was that.

Max, too, had grown used to this constant state while at Camp Campbell. He had grown used to everything being normal and static. Not much there to really make him react with fear or sorrow, so he was counting himself lucky.

But then the day turned sour.

All the campers had been giving David and Gwen a run for their money, more so than usual, and Max was not helping. He had decided to let the others chip the two counsellors down a peg, and then he would come in for the final blow. Maybe David would snap, end up yelling and storming out or something of equal satisfaction.

So Max caught David while he was heading back to the counsellors’ cabin, looking tired and worn down. Maybe there was something a little more to it, but for the time being Max brushed it off to being a little  _ extra _ tired and a little  _ extra _ worn down. This was his chance and he was  _ not _ going to lose it.

But when Max tried to get David’s attention, nothing happened. He furrowed his brow and tried calling David’s name again, but was met with no reply. Max gave up, assuming David was just too tired to respond, and so he started spewing off nonsense. He cussed out the camp, David, Campbell, everything. He began to raise his voice, yelling about how no one  _ fucking _ cared, until he was finally met with two green eyes.

But nothing else.

David just looked at him, having stopped in front of the door to the cabin. Max could now see that there was more to this than just the kids wearing him down. There was something there, in the sheen to David’s forehead and the unfocused mist in front of his eyes.

Then, with a final huff and glare that was entirely  _ too different _ from normal David, he entered the cabin and shut the door behind him, maybe a little too loudly.

And then there was silence. Nothing but the rustle of trees, the distant shouting of campers, and the thumping in Max’s ears. His legs began to shake, and his hands had turned clammy because  _ what the fuck. _ He couldn’t quite process what the hell was going on around him because suddenly dew was soaking through his jeans and his nails were digging half-moons into his palms and his chest was tight.

He remembered a slam, and then angry whispers. He remembered too much silence and too little reactions to everything he did. He remembered his throat growing raw from yelling because he just wanted them to  _ fucking acknowledge they had a fucking child. _

And suddenly Max was hyperventilating. Each breath came in ragged and his lungs were greedily gulping down air but he still felt like he was suffocating. He was going to die. He was going to die in front of the fucking cabin because he was such a fucking  _ baby _ that he was reacting to  _ nothing. _

But that was the thing - it was nothing.

It had been nothing. He swore there had been a new form of apathy in David’s eyes that he’d never seen before and it was  _ terrifying. _ He hadn’t wanted an apathetic David, he had wanted David to yell, to run out of the camp, he had wanted to prove to David that life wasn’t fucking sunshine and rainbows.

But what if that was just what he had done, and this was how David reacted to that shit? Oh fuck, what if he had made David snap but it wasn’t how he had intended? Oh fuck, oh shit, he broke David. He broke him it was his fault  _ he did this fuck what a piece of shit waste of- _

Something broke off his thoughts, and it sounded like his name but he couldn’t quite tell. Everything hurt and his cheeks felt wet and everything was blurry. His chest felt like it was tied in knots and he honestly couldn’t tell if he was laying on the ground or not but his shins felt cold and damp.

“Max, I need you to breathe, okay?”

There it was again. That voice, whose voice was that? Max wanted to figure out where that voice was coming from but his eyes hurt. He shut them tight, and tried to take in a breath.

“Good, you’re gonna be okay bud. Here-”

The voice cut off, a hand grabbing one of Max’s, that he belatedly realized had been tangled in his hair. His hand was lead to someone’s chest, and he could feel the inhale and exhale of the person connected to the hand, connected to the voice.

Max tried to follow the rhythm, did his best to breathe in and out with the rising and falling of the chest under his hand. He ended up coughing, a choked sob wrenching out of him before the voice came up again.

“It’s okay, you’re doing great, keep trying.”

Eventually, Max was able to even out his breathing. The fist still in his hair had long since relaxed, though it still stayed buried in his curls. He felt the other hand connected to the person, connected to the voice, in his hair, running through it in an even pattern.

Max blinked open his eyes, wincing at the headache coming at him from the crying and coughing. His gaze danced around him, not seeing anyone until it made its way to where the person was still holding his hand to their chest and running their free hand through his hair.

“You okay now, kiddo?” The voice, almost surprisingly, belonged to an obviously anxious David. He was still visibly exhausted, but deep concern was laced in his eyes, replacing the previous apathy he had seen.

Max took back his hand, but didn’t shake off the hand carting through his hair yet.

“‘M fine. What’re you doing?” He couldn’t help the defensive tone to his voice, arms wrapping around himself.

“I heard you a minute after I went inside for some tea and a little break.” David’s voice didn’t even begin to hide the worry dripping from every word, and he paused his hand before continuing to speak. “Do you know why you just had a panic attack?”

Max entangled his fingers, staring down at them, finally shifting enough for David to take his hand off of his head. Once you really look at your fingers, they begin to look unreal. They seem to belong to a different entity all together, and it can almost surprise you when your gaze follows up your arm to lead to your body.

Max squeezed his hands together, trying to remind himself that they were, in fact, his.

He coughed, quickly wiping the tear stains from his cheeks.

“It was nothing, it’s fine.”

From the silence next to him, Max assumed David didn’t believe a word Max had just said. After a moment of weighing his options and wondering if David would just leave it and go back to the cabin, Max sighed.

“I just. I didn’t expect you not to react or whatever. It weirder than your usual retorts ‘n’ shit so I guess I freaked out.”

Max shrugged, still refusing to meet David’s eye. He guessed David could sense that this was all Max was going to say, because he soon sighed and straightened up.

“Okay, well, if you’re sure you don’t want to talk about it, would you like some tea? We can watch something on the TV, too. I can’t imagine you want to go back to the Activities Field after something so exhausting.”

Max finally looked up at David, who was brushing off his knees with a small smile and quirked brow. He let out a sigh of his own, and pushed himself up, quickly shaking the dizziness from his head.

He looked down at his hands, noticing red marks on his wrists. He recognized them, this not being the first time he’d tried to calm himself down by scraping at himself, but he wasn’t any less surprised that he hadn’t realized he’d been doing it.

Max watched David open the door to the cabin, green eyes not showing a hint of apathy. Instead they were swimming with concern, caring, and warmth.

After Max walked in behind David he all but collapsed into one of the armchairs. His muscles ached and his headache was still thrumming behind his eyes, but his chest was loosening. A blanket was draped over him, and as he watched David settle into the second armchair, Max could feel warmth ebbing into his body.

He supposed that that was one thing he was afraid of. That being met with no response other than some form of apathy to his yelling triggered something in his core. He wasn’t sure, however, why it’d happened with  _ David. _

David wasn’t apathetic. He was either too excited, too intense, or too caring. There was always something there, never  _ nothing. _

He supposed it didn’t matter, though. He had made up apathy when trying to see something other than exhaustion, and he had gotten what he’d wanted. Of course, what he saw hadn’t been nearly as real as he’d convinced himself, but it hadn’t mattered. He had been scared shitless, and that was that.

Now, however, he was drinking tea in a lumpy chair, and watching Bob Ross.

So this was okay, because there were no whispers, no slamming, and no terror.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, sorry for the angst ! i dunno why i suddenly Really wanted to write Max having a panic attack, but i feel like (because he never flinches when someone yells at him, even adults like David) maybe it isn't so much anger that scares him, but instead the lack of response, so to say.
> 
> also, please, if this is inaccurate to a panic attack, or how someone would react in this kind of situation, feel free to tell me ! i've never had a panic attack triggered by something like this, so i'm not sure if this is 100% correct.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> Tumblr: trash-mammall


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